FOR LIAO YIRONG

Initial impressions can be deceiving.   In fact, impressions accrued over time—no matter how long and how in depth—can be just as deceiving as the ones you make in the very minute of meeting someone.

My most vivid image of Liao Yirong is seeing him, one early Iowa morning, step out of a crowded hotel elevator and into the lobby, dressed in baby blue pajamas, over-sized pink slippers, and an absurdly bright and innocent smile.  It was like he had slept an entire night in his childhood and awoke with all those clothes and emotions from childhood still clinging to him.  The color of his pajamas and slippers might have actually been different, but in my memory the smile is exact: I could have punched him in the face, and he would have hugged me afterwards.

But then I heard him read from his work on our last day together in Iowa.  It was wonderful, though him being a good writer was not what surprised me.  It was the undertow of menace and inscrutable sadness in his imagery.   The tone of something raw and foreboding.  I remember the character of the mother and the child, the sense that Yirong was writing about something that unnerved him and was not willing to look away. 

I’ve never actually believed that people who write about happy things are necessarily happy people, or that people who write crazy, morbid things are themselves crazy or morbid in their everyday life.   But with Yirong, I decided that an innocent smile—a demeanor of happiness—is nothing more than a wrapped gift you offer to others and let them unwrap in their own time.

给了一容

第一印象可能具有欺骗性。实际上，对人的印象会随着时间叠加，但不管和一个人认识多久，对他的了解有多深，表面的现象给人造成的印象并不能说明人的内心世界（就了一容的表面的文弱，与他牧马淘金的经历而言），就像你和这个人相见时一样。

了一容给我印象最深的一次是在爱荷华的一个早上，他从拥挤的电梯里出来往大堂走。他穿着淡蓝色的睡衣，超大号的粉拖鞋，脸上带着微笑，明亮、单纯和洁净。有点不可思议的是，好像他整个晚上都沉睡在童年里，醒来的时候他的衣着和情绪也还停留在童年里。他睡衣和拖鞋的颜色可能和我记忆中的不同，但是他的笑容是相同的。那笑容美好得即使我迎面打上他一拳，他还是会拥抱我一样。

在爱荷华的最后一天，我听到他朗读自己的作品，写得太棒了，尽管作为他这样一个优秀的作家能写出这样的作品，我并不感到惊讶。他的意象里有一股俘掠人心的暗线和不可名状的忧伤，他的语调里有一种原始的和预言性的东西。我记得他写的那对母子（指了一容的《挂在月光中的铜汤瓶》），那描写让一容自己也感到张皇，可是他又不愿意转头离开。

 我从不相信写幸福故事的人自己一定就是幸福的人，也不相信写疯狂病态故事的人在日常生活中就是那样疯狂病态。但是我看到一容，我觉得他那纯真的笑容就是一种幸福的表达。他的笑容就像包裹着的美的礼物，然后让收到礼物的人慢慢打开并分享那份幸福。

尊敬的巫川先生：

   您好！非常感谢您用诗一般的语言描绘了一个您眼中的了一容，以及对了一容的文章的赞美，这让我感到惶恐和不知所措，同时感到欣喜。惶恐的是您眼中的我，是一个真正写作的人才具备和可能有的样子，这令我愧不敢当。欣喜的是我的虚荣心得到了极大的满足，有种十分受用的快活。当然，尽管如此，我还是愿意领受您的对我的“表扬”。回想在美国的短暂光阴，在爱荷华的日子，我觉得您身上流淌着一位作家所具有的孤傲、豁达，以及谦虚。这是我看好您的原因，阅读您汉译的作品之后，更是觉得您对文学的虔诚，对文学的认真态度，这都让我暗暗欣赏。老实讲，现在各个领域里的藏污纳垢太多了，一些人哪里是在进行创作，完全是把艺术创作当做一个幌子，来装点门面的，真正干的却是一些连其本人过后都感到耻辱的事情。我一直觉得写作者，抑或从事于艺术创作的人，如果失去了灵魂和良心，失去了勤奋的劳动本身，一切就都没有意义。能有什么意义呢？我最佩服的是你们美国作家能在任何环境、任何状态，给一个随便的任何题目，都能够进行文学的书写。这在我是需要向你们学习的。这是一种，人或者说创作者对自我可能性的挑战，我们的一千多年前的古人就是这样写作的，而且写出了惊世骇俗的经典之作，譬如像我喜欢的唐朝的王勃，他是一位失意的文人（古今中外，凡是能够千古流传的大文人似乎都不是那些志得意满的人）。据传说，王勃在一个人们通常认为不大可能完成的场合和时间（即时空里）里创造了一个文学的奇迹，写出了一篇千古绝唱《滕王阁序》。天才就是这样的，他不屑于人情世故。对于天才，文学就是他，他就是文学的化身。如果创作的人都能不醉心于金钱，不倾倒于权势，那一定是令人仰视的，就连憎恨他们的人也会从骨子里感到情不自禁的尊敬。

    再次谢谢您的生花妙笔，并愿友谊长存！

    最后，祝您和您的朋友们在中国的旅行圆满、顺利，获得创作的灵感！

              了一容揖手

                7月1日

July, 1, 2010

Dear Mr. Wu Tran,

  How are you! Many thanks to your poetic description of LIAO Yirong and your praise on his work. I was a bit shocked and greatly flattered. What took me at a shock is that you have described me in a way that a REAL writer should be, the kind of writer I wish to fit myself in. But I was indeed cheerful for your praise and I would like to accept your compliment. Whenever I reflect on my short stay in Iowa, I always find a writer’s solitude, broad-mind and modesty in you. After reading your translated works in Chinese, I am impressed with your devotion to literature and your seriousness with your work. Frankly speaking, we find nowadays monkey business in almost every field. The situation also applies to the literary circles. There are some people who misuse art for their own good and do stuff that will eventually humiliate themselves. I have always held the belief that once a writer or an artist lose his soul or conscience, or has no motivation for the hard work he should do, everything with him and his works become nonsense. I mean, what is the point in his creation anyway? I find it very encouraging that the American writers can write under any circumstances with any topic. And this is what I should learn from you. It is a challenging life to lead, a life that holds the challenge of exploring every possibility in one’s own self. Hundreds of years ago, Chinese writers used to write in such a way. Poet Wang Bo from the Tang Dynasty is one of my favorites, and he witnessed all sorts of disappointment and depression in his life. (It seems that great works are always written by broken hearts.) According to the legend, Wang Bo completed his masterpiece TengWang Ge Xu (Preface to Tengwang Tower) in a time and place impossible for ordinary writers. A genius writer may not be familiar with the worldly wisdom, because literature is all he has and all he wants. He is literature himself. If a writer can avoid any indulgence in money and power, he must be very respectable. People who hold enmity to him has to admit that they admire him secretly.

Thank you again for your wonderful piece and may our friendship last forever!

Wish you and your friends an enjoyable and safe trip in China! May you find new inspirations during the visit!

Best regards,

LIAO Yirong